


Why not?

by Min_YoonSook _LovesYK (AstroAngel0097)



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-30 22:35:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21435802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AstroAngel0097/pseuds/Min_YoonSook%20_LovesYK
Summary: History born from the visionary trailer of episode 8 of the TV series 9-1-1 so it is Spoiler up to 7 if it's own.My personal vision of Eddie who finds himself with a face covered in a blood mask and with the only option of contacting his best friend, Buck.I hope you like it, let me know if you still want to because I love these two!It´is a translation from an original work from BloodyWolf :)
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz
Comments: 2
Kudos: 61





	Why not?

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Why Not?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21420658) by [BloodyWolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodyWolf/pseuds/BloodyWolf). 

> Hi, I translated this work, it was originally in Italian, and the work was done by BloodyWolf, you can read the original at the end I will leave the link. 9-1-1 does not belong to us, all rights are for who create the show. History by BloodyWolf, grazie per avermi permesso di tradurre

His opponent's hand had blocked his fist and the other's elbow had reached him mercilessly hitting him hard on the nose. The blood had begun to flow, drop by drop, creating an intricate red pattern on his face.

He had taken a palm to dry the trail that was going to run down his mouth, flooding his taste buds with the bitter, ferrous taste of blood.

He had spit out some of that crap on the ground, before turning his attention back to the man in front of him and deciding that it wasn't over yet, that those were not his last lines in a fight, he would have won at any cost.

He did not see the clenched fist towards his chin as he did not see the blow following the cheekbone ...

"Call 9-1-1!"

The words resounded in his head with a whistle that was mercilessly pestering his head, that simple sequence of numbers brought him back to reality and that, from which, he had not even realized he had departed.

He denied with his head by putting himself on all fours, he would not cause any disturbance to anyone else in his family, ever again.

"No!"

The sound of the ringing of his own telephone made his eyes openly confused, he turned in the bed muttering contrary; the alarm clock on the night table marked two in the morning, it was early, too much for his brain.

He snorted as he reached out and grasped his cell phone, turned it towards him noticing the name of the one who was calling him.

He sat down on the mattress and responded quickly.

"Eddie?"

A cough filled the silence of the phone call, a noise that anticipated the boy's voice that reached his ears, it was shuffling and tired, it wasn't his usual voice.

"I know it's late, but you're the only one I could call, Buck."

Buck came down from his bed with a confused expression on his face, got up, slipped on a sweatshirt and went down the mezzanine stairs as he spoke on the phone as calmly as he used to when he had to deal with people when he was at work.

"What happened, talk to me, Eddie."

Silence. A sob held up badly and then, again, that distorted and tired voice, the voice of a man destroyed by something that was much bigger than him.

-I need you to pick me up with a first aid kit, please.-

Buck put on his shoes, put on a hurry jacket and rushed to the garage. The phone stuck between a shoulder and an ear.

"All right, tell me where you are ..."

The gray defender was circling the three or four back streets, searching for any sign from Eddie. He caught sight of him shortly after sitting on the sidewalk with his head resting on his knees and a simple T-shirt covering his chest despite the cold that the November air dragged with him.

He left the car open and turned on in the middle of the road, grabbed the kit and threw himself at his best friend.

"Eddie!"

The boy's head stood up showing Buck a swollen face from the barrel. The blood had coagulated on the chin and cheeks, the lip was split into two places and a cut appeared on the back of the nose and on part of the cheek. The right cheekbone was purple and swollen.

Eddie's eyes filled with tears, aching and apologetic as he allowed Buck to kneel next to him and open the dressing-case.

"I couldn't let myself be seen like this by Abuela and Chris. Sorry."

Buck smiled arching one corner of his mouth toward the other, gently denying his head, Eddie always worried too much, anyway. He took off his jacket and rested it on the shoulders of the man who, at that moment, was looking at him doubtfully.

He put on the latex gloves and filled the cotton with disinfectant and wiped away the bulk of the blood on his face and then applied some patches on the cut and one on the outside of the lip.

"It's better if you sleep with me tonight, what do you say?"

Eddie tried to smile at that statement but only managed to reproduce a sort of suffering grimace that made Buck chuckle as genuinely as possible.

"Friend you should see yourself, you're pretty funny but ... let's go."

Buck helped his friend to rise from the ground, to find the balance and then lead him to his car and make him sit on the seat gently.

He picked up the medical equipment and loaded it into the back seat of the car, threw off gloves and cotton and then got into the car sitting in the driver's seat and turning to watch Eddie.

"Are you sure you don't want to go to the hospital?"

Eddie denied without force, he just needed to rest and recover before explaining what had happened.

He had driven carefully home, parked, and helped Eddie enter the house, closing the front door behind him with a sigh.

"Go take a shower, you know where the bathroom is."

Buck gestured at his bathroom, a crooked smile as a kind of respectful silence crept between them.  
.  
.  
.  
Eddie went to the bathroom and the homeowner stood motionless to observe that back that disappeared behind the door and listened to the sound of the water beginning to flow.

He sighed as he ran his hands through his short hair, frustrated by the situation for the simple reason that he was unaware of everything, he wouldn't press Eddie but he wanted to know, he wanted to talk and feel that their precarious balance was still there.

He climbed into the loft that served as his bedroom and began to search the wardrobe for a pair of sweatpants, along with a T-shirt.

He knocked on the bathroom door, entering and leaving the clothes on the chair near the mirror.

"Eddie, are you okay?"

An assent with a sort of moan reached his ears. At least he was sure that Eddie had not passed out in the shower.

He had left the bathroom and retrieved another first aid kit, raised the temperature in the house and turned on the television.

He also made hot chocolate...

He tilted his head aside not knowing exactly why he had made chocolate. Perhaps it was because, when he was sad, his mother prepared it for him and drank it with him waiting, or maybe it just seemed right at that precise moment and he couldn't do without it.

Buck heard the door to the bathroom door open and, as if he had been caught doing something he shouldn't do, he jumped to his feet, pointing to everything he had prepared, starting to talk.

"I didn't know what to do so I prepared hot chocolate and I also grab the disinfectant"

Eddie looked down but when he listened to Buck's words, he brought his eyes to probe everything the other had prepared for him.

"Thanks, Buck."

Eddie held his shoulder as he walked and sat on the couch in front of the homeowner. Buck's hands went almost instinctively to grab the disinfectant and cotton, placing new patches on cuts and abrasions again and then passing on the instant ice.

He handed him one of the two cups filled with chocolate, mirrored in Eddie's eyes there was sadness, he had to do something to make him smile because he hated having sad people around him.

"It all started during the stupid complaint you made ..."

Buck sat next to him with his legs crossed on the low table, his chocolate cup in his hands. He looked down, aware of the pain he had caused to those he most cared about in the world: his colleagues.

He had been wrong, he knew, but he had done it because he was furious about his condition and the refusal that came from the person whose buck Buck probably trusted most: Bobby.

"Bosko took me in a sort of fight club ... to release the anger after everything ... she pulled me out of jail because I beat a civilian, for a parking space for the disabled ..."

Eddie moved next to him, resting his cup on the surface and running a hand through his hair, his eyes shining with both pain and something else that Buck didn't fully understand.

Eddie had beaten a civilian? The same Eddie who loved his son and whom he had never seen once angry?

The question was printed in his mind, word by word, like an inscription engraved on fire inside him: how bad had he been doing by doing the only thing he had left to recover his work?

"I felt betrayed and angry, in fact, furious. With the first one I hit it was easy, I didn't ask questions and I hit and parried like anyone would but ... "

The ice rested on his cheekbone, groaning in pain before continuing the conversation.

"In the second I realized that I wouldn't stop, the more I hit and the more anger grew inside me, I feel it Buck, years old."  
.  
.  
.  
Eddie was looking at his trembling hands, his knuckles reddened and, in places, his skin was cracked.

"I was no longer able to stop myself, it was as if I needed it. Almost as if being unable to talk to you, hitting someone was the only thing that kept me calm and firm in my work ..."

Buck moved back down the cup and retrieved the disinfectant and gently grabbed those hands that, at first glance, retreated in fear before letting themselves be medicated.

"I don't know what came over me, but the moment I find myself in the ring with a lens, I'm fine."

A few drops fell to wet Buck's hands, tears that forced the boy to look up from those abrasions and point them at Eddie's.

He was crying without making any sound and, as if they had found themselves in front of a mirror, even Buck's were filled with hot tears.

"Sorry."

His arms went to surround his friend's torso in a soft but felt embrace, aware of the widespread pain in the other's body and the poison that circulated in his mind.

"I know it will never be enough to just ask you to apologize but now there's Eddie, I'm here with you. We will overcome it together. "

Eddie leaned his forehead on his friend's shoulder trying to contain everything he had inside him, he was trying to stem the storm and Buck felt it, he knew him too well not to know.

"Come on, let's go to bed."

Buck split his hug, pulling himself to his feet, stretching and yawning.

He pointed to the sofa and spoke innocently to Eddie.

"I sleep on the couch, you take the bed."

Eddie had looked at him curiously, he had emitted a kind of painful groan when he tried to raise an eyebrow by making Buck grin.

"It's your house, you sleep in your bed."

Buck had snorted and put his hands to his neck, crossing his arms behind his head and looking up at the sky, amused.

"Eddie ..."

The young man had already got up and was already climbing the stairs while, in an almost authoritarian tone, he had begun to talk, returning for a short time to being the young man he had known and appreciated during the removal of a grenade.

"If you want me to stay here, we both sleep in your bed, move, slacker."

Buck chuckled, licking his lips amused by that stance, deciding that following his friend was the wisest thing to do at that moment.

"Yes sir, Mr. Captain."

A veiled curse came out of the Mexican's mouth making them laugh for that whole situation.

It was all surreal, it almost seemed that Eddie had never called to be medicated, but it was a good situation.  
.  
.  
.  
Buck turned in bed for the umpteenth time refraining from snorting loudly. He looked at the person lying next to him, smiling almost without realizing it, Eddie was sleeping facing him, his face slaughtered but keeping his friend's decisive and perfect features.

He settled himself comfortably on his side, losing sight of his features, while in his head he realized he was in the same bed with a man.

He had never slept with anyone of his own sex, not even on school trips or with friends. It was one of those things that he had always hated, but with Eddie, everything had happened so spontaneously that it seemed so right.

He frowned, biting his lower lip, adjusted the pillow and leaned his elbow to put his head in the palm of his hand.

He preferred Eddie with his hair a little longer than he had at that moment, they made him more ... he wasn't sure how to define what he had in his head but he was sure of it.

The other hand moved, almost with a life of its own, going to pass the fingers close to the battered cheekbone, passed lightly stroking the soft consistency of the skin and smiling almost instinctively.

He snorted as he put his head back on the pillow and fell asleep with a smile on his lips.

Eddie was his savior against the unfortunate events in his unjust life.  
.  
.  
.  
The trill of the alarm made him grumble, Buck, moved in the bed trying to stretch as he did every morning.

His fist hit something, causing him to open his eyes wide and reconnect what had happened during the night.

A reply fist hit him on the shoulder, while his sleepy gaze clashed with Eddie's similar one.

"You punched me in the ribs, you idiot."

Buck froze at those drowsy and sleepy words, Eddie was beautiful even with the patches on his lips, the bruises on his face and sleep in his vocal cords ...

What the hell was he doing early in the morning?

A silent stalemate was created. Time had stopped around them, and only then did they both notice how close they really were.

Their heads and their bodies were distant from each other only a few tens of centimeters but there was no embarrassment in their scrutinizing each other.

Buck's eyes slowly descended along with the profile in front of him, pausing on Eddie's lips, he found himself licking his own in search of a taste that wasn't there yet, a taste he didn't know but wanted.

There were no words or meanings hidden between them in that bed, under the warm blankets, together ...

Their faces slowly approached, inch by inch.

There were only two of them and, in the heads of both of them, a subtle question hovering in the head, without weighing:

Why not?

The End

**Author's Note:**

> https://archiveofourown.org/works/21420658  
Original work in italian


End file.
